Waking Up With The Sun On My Cheeks (And Thawing) - Poem by V. Vagari
For years I'd made cold fields my home,
an aching tundra, filled with cold and brittle stone,
challenging all with silence, riddle and/or poem.
Wise enough to see the door,
and wiser still to know I'm poor,
the time had come to search for more.
From sea to sea I've seen the land,
like an hourglass half full of sand,
the days were lost, having sifted through my fingers,
having drifted free from outstretched hands.
My time alone has seldom shown or taught me how to feel,
though I knows love is real;
I return home with an empty heart, the knowledge that love can sometimes come so far apart,
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